


The Weight of the Sky

by SlightlyPsychicParade



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, don't bottle up your feelings kids, reference to broodmothers but only vaguely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:04:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlightlyPsychicParade/pseuds/SlightlyPsychicParade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Orzammar, Alistair tries to get Annella to open up to him about what happened. It works, more or less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of the Sky

Their first night above ground after Orzammar, Annella found she couldn’t keep her eyes on the ground. _Maker_ , how she’d missed the sky. Back home in Highever – which she **would** see again – there was no shortage of sky. She would look out the window of her room and watch the blue vastness stretch on forever, the hills and mountains rolling along beneath it. It was so beautiful. How had she not been thankful every night of her life for it?

She was resting by the fire, her head pillowed on her pack, Muffin curled up at her side, just… watching the stars. Her hand rubbed idly back and forth over the dog’s flank, and every now and then he’d snuffle and shift contentedly. Staring up into that endless expanse, she could almost forget that there was anything at all living belowground… waiting.

“Supper’s done!” Alistair called, breaking the silence. The others began to shift around, heading for the big pot bubbling away over the fire. She’d wait until they all had their fill. A good leader always made sure her troops ate first, right?

Footsteps approached, heavy, but not weighted, with the even tread of discipline. After so many months she would have recognized the sound anywhere.

“I thought,” Alistair said, stooping into her line of sight, “I’d grab you a bowl before it was all gone. I’ll have you know that my cuisine is in high demand.”

She managed a small smile for him. “Thank you, but… I’m not really hungry. You eat your fill. I’ll have some later.” Even to her ears it sounded weak, and Alistair’s frown told her he wasn’t buying it.

Instead of calling her out on her bullshit, he sat beside her, setting her bowl within arm’s reach if she wanted it. “Well, alright then. More lamb and pea stew for me.”

Muffin picked his head up, but he was too well-trained and too well-fed to go after the bowl. He let out a loud, comical harrumph and dropped his head onto her stomach. Annella moved to scratch behind his ears.

“Okay, no.” Alistair put his bowl down and leaned over so that she’d look at him. “Your dog just did something stupid and silly and you didn’t even _grin_. I’m sorry, but I have to put my foot down.” She raised one eyebrow and most of the conviction drained out of him. “Look, I just… talk to me?”

“Honestly, Alistair, I’m fine.” The fake smile summoned for his benefit wavered on her lips and she had to turn away before it crumbled. “I’m just thinking is all.”

“No, that’s not all. I know, because I know you, and I know that the one thing that never fails to make you smile is that dog acting like a fool.” He drew in a grieved breath, and it occurred to her for the first time that he was hurting. “Talking to you about Duncan helped me more than anything else. Let me do the same for you? Please?”

She only hesitated a moment before she blew out a long breath and decided that it was time to stop hiding in her own misery. “Alright.” She tapped Muffin’s head and he sat up, freeing her to shift into a sitting position and lean her shoulder against Alistair. “So maybe I’ve been avoiding thinking about some things.”

“Wow. That actually worked? I’m going to have to say please a lot more!” He joked, and it actually made her smile for real. “Please can we stop early for the night? Please can I have that expensive golem totem from that shop in Denerim?”

“Shut up,” she said, shoving against him. “I’m trying to bear my soul, here.”

“Right, shutting up. Only listening from now on. This is my listening face.” He frowned in a way that reminded her of a constipated Sten, and she laughed, just a little. It made him smile, and she settled her head against his shoulder, sobering once more.

“I just… I think I was down there too long. It started to feel like nothing else was real, that all my memories of sky and open air were nothing more than illusions. It felt like the only thing that was real were the tunnels, and the Darkspawn, and the blood.” She shuddered and wrapped her arm around his, tangling their fingers. It felt… real. Grounding. Alistair’s warmth, Muffin’s closeness, the noises of their friends eating their own bowls of Alistair’s hideous stew, and – yes – the sky were all real. “I guess I understand now what Ruck was going through.”

It was Alistair’s turn to shiver. “Ah, yes. I had hoped… not to ever think about him again.”

“Come on, Al, don’t you want to talk about it?” she asked, picking her head up to look at him innocently. “This is my listening face.”

“ _Oh, no_. We’re dealing with your issues right now. My issues are tomorrow night.”

She laughed softly. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he kissed her nose. “Now, you were saying?”

She let her head tilt over onto his shoulder once more. “I guess… it’s just a lot to process. Ruck, the dead trenches, Caridin, that… thing. The _Broodmother_.” The word felt like poison in her mouth. “I don’t… That’s not going to happen to me, right? We have the Taint in us, but… it’s not strong enough to do that, right?”

“What? No, love, of course not.” He pulled his arm free of hers to wrap her in a tight hug. “No, that’s not how it works. It’ll shorten your lifespan, sure. Leave you with nightmares. Make it next to impossible to have kids…. Where was I going with that…?” She knew he was playing it up, trying to make her feel better, and she appreciated the effort. “Right. The Taint. Look, it’s not the best thing ever, but it won’t do _that_. I… don’t know enough about it to tell you any details - _yet another reason I wish a more senior warden was here_ \- but I’m certain you won’t become one of those things just from what’s in your body right now.”

 _Right now_ was the important phrase, there. Did the Taint keep her safe from that kind of transformation, or just make it easier to find her? Either way, she was certain of one thing: they’d never take her alive. Not that Alistair needed to know that. It would only make him worry.

Alistair’s hand was carding through her short hair, and _Maker_ that felt wonderful. “I’m sorry we ever found that abomination. I wish I could spare you this worry.”

Even through the fog of bliss spreading over her, she knew that was wrong. “No, I’m glad. It’s better this way.” His hand stopped. Why did his hand stop? Alistair was looking at her, confused, and she remembered that she’d never actually mentioned her plans.

“Think about it: the reason we’ve never been able to wipe out the Darkspawn is because we always just bashed our armies against theirs, and there were always too many, always more hiding underground. But now we know where they come from. _Now_ we know that we don’t have to kill every last Darkspawn, we just have to kill all the broodmothers. Then the Darkspawn will die out on their own.” She shrugged as much as she could against him. “I haven’t worked out logistics yet. Obviously it’ll take a concerted effort from every country, and we’ll need the blessing of the First Warden back in Weisshaupt. I’m thinking maybe use armies to draw out and distract their main numbers and then send in small, elite teams behind enemy lines to take out the broodmothers.”

The object of her enduring affection was staring at her, slack-jawed, as if this wasn’t the most obvious conclusion in the world. Finally, he burst into an uproarious laughter, one arm still slung around her shoulders had her shaking with him until she smacked his leg and he let her go.

“I’m sorry!” he cried, trying to control himself. “It’s just… only you would have already drawn up battle plans before we were even on the road again.” She pouted unrepentantly as he wiped tears from his eyes and kissed her cheek. “How about we kill the archdemon and _then_ you can single-handedly end the Darkspawn threat for good?”

Annella huffed, but smiled slyly. “Well… I suppose I can wait. Best to focus on one thing at a time, right?”

“Yes, exactly,” Alistair said with faux-seriousness. A few more chortles escaped him, and – truthfully – she cherished the sound. Her beautiful Alistair. The fierce warmth that spread through her chest every time she thought of him was becoming familiar now, and she grabbed hold of that feeling. How could anyone have ever sent this wonderful man away? How could they deny him a family? She wanted to give that to him more than anything. Her parents were gone, and Fergus was still missing, but she could still give him herself. Hopefully it would be enough.

“I think I’m ready to eat now.”

“Glad to hear it.” The stew had likely gone cold, but that just meant she didn’t have to taste it quite so much as it went down. Alistair, for all his talents, was no cook. When this was all over, and Highever was restored to her family, they’d have a cook on staff, and Alistair would get to taste good, proper food every night.

And not just Alistair.

As she picked up the bowl he’d brought her, she looked around at all her friends: Wynne, in all of her motherly wisdom, Morrigan, who’d somehow become like a sister to her, Zevran, who deserved a much better life than the one he’d had, Sten in his taciturn grumpiness, Leliana, who always kept Annella on her toes, and the newly-solved mystery that was Shale. Oghren was still a new, strange fit, but she felt warmth even for his drunken antics. These people would always be welcome in her home.

More than anything, she wanted to show it to them. The people of Highever would love them – well, most of them – and… and she would absolutely have that chance. Everything would be fine. She had Alistair. She had her friends. She would save the kingdom and then she’d go back home and everything… everything would be fine. She just had to keep reminding herself of that.

Muffin shuffled over and dropped his head in her lap, whether sensing her thoughts or just whining at having been left out of the snuggle fest for so long, she couldn’t tell. It made her laugh outright, however, and beside her Alistair beamed.

“See? That’s more like it.”

She shifted the bowl to one hand so that she could scratch Muffin’s ears with the other. Sipping at the terrible brown mess her sweetheart had made, she leaned into him once again. “You know, you were wrong before.”

“I’m wrong about a lot of things. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“When you said that if anything could cheer me up, it was Muffin.” She tilted her head to grin up at him. “Either one of my boys playing the fool makes me laugh.”

“Oh, I’m one of your boys, am I?” he asked with heart-wrenching affection.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He leaned down, kissing her tenderly. “Love you,” she said, smiling against his lips.

“Love you too.” Above them, the stars shone on. The sky stretched out forever, and no matter how much Oghren complained, she would never tire of the feeling of freedom she found there. It was nearly as comforting as the feeling of Alistair’s arm over her shoulder, and the warmth in his smile.

He’d been right: she felt much better. If only she could share all her burdens with him so easily. There were things that Alistair wouldn’t understand, however, or just wasn’t ready to hear. There were even things she herself wasn’t ready to acknowledge, locked up inside the darkest corners of her mind. Someday she’d open those secret chests. Someday she’d take the world off her shoulders and just… breathe. Today wasn’t that day, but at least she’d caught a break. Alistair was the luckiest break she’d ever found.


End file.
